Loneliest Soul
by Scrawlix
Summary: AU- Steve's identity is only known to a very select few in SHIELD. He's tasked with keeping tabs on the infamous Tony Stark AKA Iron man who seems to be self destructing.


Steve looked at the man slumped over his drink and bit back the urge to sigh. This man had been here every day for the past two weeks, drinking until he could barely function before stumbling to wherever it was that he came from. He had learned to tell when he was getting to the point of complete inebriation by the set of his shoulders. Eventually, he would be completely huddled over his glass of whiskey and it would take Steve three tries to get him to acknowledge that the bar was closing and he'd have to go.

This night seemed to be different though. Tonight, he was talking and more importantly, speaking in full sentences. Steve was surprised that his alcohol induced torpor hadn't given him brain damage but there was no sign of it as the man began to talk. Despite this change, it didn't slow down the rate in which he consumed the single malt whiskey. Eventually, though, even the alcohol robbed him of his words and he resumed his hunched position over his drink. Steve felt bad for the guy, he just wanted someone to understand him.

His attention was directed to a beautiful redheaded woman who slid onto a barstool. She smiled and ordered a vodka spritzer which, like every other night she was there, she never touched.

"He seems a bit more animated tonight." She said in a quiet voice watching the drunk man write something down on a cocktail napkin.

"He's been talking a bit."

"Rhodes visited him earlier today. That usually perks him up." She lifted her glass to her lip and tilted it ever so slightly but Steve could see her mouth remained closed.

Steve nodded, "Ms Potts is still not speaking to him."

"I think it's a bit of both, really. She avoids his calls and feels guilty, calls him. He avoids her calls, and feels guilty, calls. Phone tag, really." She said softly, rearranging her glass on her napkin.

"How long can he keep this up?" He picked up a glass and began to scrub it with a clean towel.

Natasha shrugged, "Not sure. All I know is the boss is getting impatient. And we both know that bad things happen when the boss gets impatient."

"We can't engage him. He has to come to us."

"You need to make that happen, Steve. Otherwise, there will be an intervention and that's not in Mr Stark's best interests, no?" She tilted her head back and laughed, letting her hair fall back to reveal the pale, graceful column of her neck.

Steve smirked at her, set the glass down. "I don't know what to do."

A man entered, taking a seat next to the redhead. He pulled off his glasses and folded his hands neatly on the bar, "I'll have a beer."

"Coming up."

"Hi darling." She leaned over, pressing her lips to the newcomer's tanned cheek, "Where've you been?" The woman purred, running a hand up his thigh.

Steve set the beer down and Clint scooped it up to take a long gulp. He set the beer down and looked at Natasha who had leaned in so close he could smell her perfume. "Parking the car."

Her smile grew wider, toothier, "Couldn't find a good spot?"

Steve left them to banter, walking back down the bar to where his other patron sat. "How are you doing?"

"Fine, boss." Tony lifted his cup up in salute. "Just thinking."

"Oh?" Steve leaned in, rubbing the non-existent water spots off the surface of the mahogany bar.

He drained his glass and set it down, "I'm thinking I'll have another."

"Coming right up." He turned away to grab the bottle, trying to keep the disdain from showing on his face. He poured a finger in the glass and barely had time to right the bottle before Tony slammed it back. Steve raised an eyebrow, no longer able to contain his concern, "Easy, there."

"Keep 'em coming." He waggled his glass at the bartender, who filled it with another finger of liquor. This happened three times in succession. During the last shot, Steve glanced at the couple at the end of the bar. They were both watching from the corner of their eyes, although to the untrained eye, it looked like Clint was nuzzling at Natasha's neck while she took an imaginary sip of her drink.

"Barkeep." Natasha called out politely, holding out her hand.

Steve filled Tony's glass before setting the bottle back on the shelf and walking back to the couple. "He just started. I can't get him to stop. He's going to drink himself to death."

Natasha handed him some bills but in the palm of her hand was a small vial. "Slip this in his drink." She murmured. "He'll feel nauseous and pass out."

"I don't think he needs it- he's accomplishing that all on his own."

"He's a high functioning alcoholic. He would probably walk back to his room and pass out there before he passes out at the bar." Clint said as he smiled. He got up from his seat and took Natasha's hand. "Come on dear." The man said before leading Natasha out of the bar.

Glancing at his watch, Steve realized that it was closing time. He walked back to where Tony was hunched and looked down at the man, who was now in his usual turtle position. "One more for the road?" The bartender asked.

Tony answered by pushing his glass towards the man. "Sounds good." He stood up and shrugged into his sports jacket. "Hold that for me. I gotta piss." The man staggered towards the washroom as Steve poured the drink, adding the vial of clear liquid. When he reemerged, Steve was stowing empties and putting the last of the glasses away. Cashing out didn't take much and by the time he had the safe locked up, Tony had finished his drink. Whatever was in the glass had had an immediate effect- he was hunched over the bar with his head resting on his arm. Steve hoped he hadn't killed the guy, which would have probably solved a lot of his employer's problems but it would do nothing to assuage his guilty conscience.

He managed to shut down the bar and then walked around to where Tony was sleeping. Steve managed to lock the bar up as he manhandled the unconscious drunk. He fished his keycard from the pocket of his jacket and rode the elevator up to the man's penthouse suite. He kicked the door open after much juggling and got him to a bed. Steve gently relieved the man of his shoes, jacket and loosened his belt and collar. He propped him on his side with pillows, put a wastebasket beside the bed and found tylenol in the bathroom which he left beside a glass of water.

He was about to go when Tony reached out and grabbed his wrist. "Don't go." He whispered. It was a wretched plea, completely uncharacteristic. It tugged at Steve's heart. He sat down on the bed and awkwardly patted Tony's shoulder. He sat there for a while, watching the prone man sleep. Then when he was sure that he was completely asleep, he moved himself to a chair that sat kitty corner to the bed. Dropping his keys and his phone on the desk beside the chair, he folded his long legs at the ankle, stretching out.

He wasn't sure when he had fallen asleep but he was woken up the awful sound of someone retching. He rubbed his eyes and looked around the room, a bit confused until he remembered that he had spent the night in a chair in Tony Stark's penthouse suite.

Steve knocked on the door and asked, "Are you okay? Is there anything I can get you?"

The tap turned on, the toilet flushed and a moment later Tony cracked the door with a toothbrush hanging out of his mouth. "Get some breakfast. I'll have pancakes, bacon and coffee. You get what you want." He said before shutting the door and returning to his ablutions.

After ordering what seemed like half the menu, he settled on the bed and turned on the tv to catch the news.

45 minutes later, while Steve was watching a cart burdened with food being pushed into the hotel room, Tony emerged freshly dressed and washed. Tony passed a twenty to the other man and held the door as he left. Coffee was immediately poured and plates were filled from platters of bacon, eggs, toast and fresh fruit.

"So besides being a bartender, what does Steve like to do?" Tony asked between bites of his pancake.

Steve swallowed his strawberry and chasing it with a sip of coffee, "I paint and draw."

"You are an artist? Is that like a prereq for getting a gig as a bartender? You gotta play in a band or be an artist?" He took a noisy slurp from his coffee.

Smiling, the blond man picked up a piece of bacon with his fingers and took a bite. "Well, it does help when dealing with drunk, rich, businessmen who haven't got anything better to do than bother the working class."

"I imagine it does." Tony smirked, leaning back in his chair with his cup of coffee in his hands. "You went above and beyond last night. Thanks."

"It's fine. I would have felt pretty bad to learn you had choked to death on your own vomit. You tip too well to go out like that."

"So what type of art do you do? Like?"

"I do a lot of gestural charcoal sketches. Some realist paintings of landscapes when I get the time. I like Courbet, Millet, Whistler, Manet, Robert Henri- other painters in the realism movement. I like some impressionists, too. Monet-"

"A given. What artist worth their salt doesn't love Monet?"

"That's true. There's also Turner. He's definitely a favourite of mine. When I was in London I had the chance to see some of his works- stunning work."

They talked for quite some time. Long after their plates had been cleared and the two carafes of coffee had been emptied. It wasn't until Tony glanced at his watch that their conversation drew to an end. "I have to get on a plane in around a half an hour so unfortunately, I'm going to have to get going now."

Steve looked down at his watch. It was eleven-thirty. He'd have time to shower and change before he was expected at SHIELD's secret office. "Yeah, I suppose I better get going. Thanks for the food, Mr Stark."

"Thanks for… not letting me die." Tony grimaced and walked the other man to the door.

The shook hands and parted ways. Steve stepped out onto the street from the hotel's warm foyer and shivered. It was deep autumn and had snowed some last night. The snow swirled in the bitter gust of wind along the pavement. The sky was still pewter colored and looked like it might snow a bit more before the day's end. He walked around the corner to wear his bike was and threw one long leg over, settling into the seat as he jammed the helmet on his head. As he pulled out onto the busy street, he watched Tony getting into an awaiting black town car. He eased out into traffic and passed the car before turning out of sight.

Hours later, he was in a briefing. He rubbed his head and tried to stay awake. This was tedious stuff. He had to sit through meetings between him and a psychologist who was tasked in bringing him up to speed with the modern world. When he was done here, he'd have another two hours with a computer tech that smelled like onions and BO. Then, he'd be home in time to make supper and head to work.

He hated to say it but he missed the action and the life and death situations that his previous life had offered. He never felt more alive when he was there, in that moment where he had to make decisions between life and death. SHIELD was hesitant to let him back out into the field. He was impatient to get back out there and had quickly taken the mission of befriending Stark.

It hadn't been easy but the breakthrough last night was perfect timing. He was delighted to find that despite the shenanigans that tabloids loved to print about the guy, he actually liked him. He was smart and easy going, perceptive and never assumed anything. Steve was reminded of Howard, Tony's father in that regard and felt a pang of grief as he remembered the last time he had spoken to the guy. He had only just come to terms with the deaths of many of his friends he had made throughout the war. He was glad to have seen Peggy one last time before she had passed away, though. Time was never easy on SHIELD agents of Peggy's caliber and it had thrilled Steve that she had managed to live such a full and colorful life. He had only wished that he had been there with her instead of trapped in ice.

There were so few people in the world that he felt comfortable with now that he was awake. The world had changed considerably and he had been left behind with his antiquated ideas. That wasn't to say that he wasn't amenable to the changes that the world had gone through. He loved the internet- a cornucopia of information at his fingertips. Unfortunately, it had made people hostile and impatient, unable to appreciate the time it took to stop and smell the roses. Time was money and money was time was the future's unofficial motto.

"- Mr Rogers, are you with me?"

Steve looked at the doctor and grimaced, "I'm sorry, Doctor. I'm just a little scatterbrained right now. I didn't sleep well."

"Is there anything you want to talk about?"

"Not really. I'm still trying to get used to the noise and the lights."

"Surely, New York was noisy when you were living there last?"

"It was. But… it's different."

"Okay, well, I suppose we can stop where we are today." The doctor closed his notebook and dropped it on the desk.

"Thanks Doctor." Steve smiled and shook his hand before leaving.

He found himself in the mess, hunched over his StarkPad with a cup of coffee. He was making his way through the third Harry Potter book. After reading the same sentence three times, he sighed and leaned back in his chair, massaging his temples. He found himself thinking about his conversation with Tony. How the man smiled and how he reacted to everything that Steve spoke about, like he was genuinely interested. He wondered if that was feigned interest or not. On his behalf, Steve was absolutely enthralled with what Tony had been talking about- various stories and anecdotes that, while lost on Steve, seemed hilarious and interesting.

He pulled up newspage that featured a story about his philosophies as a weapons manufacturer. His eyes kept falling on the picture of the star of the article, in what looked like a very expensive suit with his arms crossed over his broad chest and a confident smirk on his face. He knew that look, he had seen those same eyes that were bright with certainty, dim with sadness and regret. This man truly was an enigma that fascinated Steve the way the rubix cube had fascinated him when it was first put in his hands.

Pushing the image away, he resigned himself to checking his email as he finished the last of his coffee. There was an email from Tony. He couldn't recall giving the man his email but then, there was still a lot about the information highway that confounded him. He opened it and read the few lines.

_Thanks for the company this morning. Let's do it again soon. Maybe you could come have lunch with me tomorrow after I get in? If you want. _

_Tony Stark_

_CEO of Stark Industries._

Steve smiled as he jabbed at the keyboard with his index fingers.

_Dear Mr. Stark,_

_I can be there at around 12PM. See you then._

_Sincerely,_

_Steve Rogers_

_Bartender. _

Tony was oddly pleased to see that he had gotten a response back almost immediately. He was also a little put out that he was inexplicably looking forward to his lunch with the tall, handsome bartender. There was something about him, something that attracted Tony like a moth to flame.

When he had woken up that morning, he felt absolutely miserable. It was a normal state of mind for him but it was quickly abolished when he realized that there was someone else in the room. It had come as a pleasant surprise to see the handsome bartender's long, muscular frame folded into a chair in the corner of the room. He had realized then that there was water and tylenol laid out for him, as well as a pail by his bed. He couldn't remember the last time someone had taken care of him and he would be loathed to admit it to anyone but he kind of liked it.

He didn't really have much of a chance to analyze his feelings about what should have been a seriously awkward situation when his stomach had lurched violently. He had just made it to the bathroom and slammed the door before he heaved noisily into the toilet bowl. He was surprised when there came a knock at the door and Steve asked if he was okay. Hoping that he wouldn't leave before Tony had a chance to clean up and actually have a sober conversation with the man, he had tasked him with getting them food before jumping in the shower. It thrilled him further when he came out of the bathroom, freshly dressed, washed and shaved to find Steve sitting at the edge of his bed with the TV on.

They had slid into a witty repartee that made Tony want to spend more and more time with the man. He had thought the man was perhaps a bit simple in the head when he was behind the bar but it wasn't that. It was like he was hesitant and not sure what to say, as if he would say something inappropriate at any moment- which was endearing to the older man.

For the first time in a long time, Tony had something to look forward to and that brought a small smile to his face. He glanced at the time and mentally began to countdown the minutes when he would be able to meet up with the other man again.


End file.
